


Stiles Stilinski And His Anal Sex-Free Life

by kestra_troi



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Beta Derek, Beta Peter, Drabble, Fluff and Smut, Heat Sex, M/M, Mentioned Stackson, No Plot/Plotless, Nonsense, Off-screen Relationship(s), Omega Stiles Stilinski, Oral Sex, PWP, Rough Kissing, Stiles Stilinski in Heat, Teasing, True Alpha Scott McCall, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Fisting, mentioned sterek - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 04:38:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2568464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kestra_troi/pseuds/kestra_troi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is an Omega in Scotts Pack. He likes to tease. He teases Peter. Sex ensues.</p><p>-or-</p><p>The one where Stiles complains that everyone is only ever interested in his pussy, but he doesnt do anything about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stiles Stilinski And His Anal Sex-Free Life

**Author's Note:**

> This is utter and complete nonsense. I dont know where this came from, but I literally just typed it up two seconds ago, so...I apologize for the lack of eloquence or editing.

 

Stiles was wiggling his ass in what he considered a teasing, seductive way right in front of Peter’s face. Scott had made a rule three months ago about this very thing: “When in heat Stiles… STILES!...When in heat don’t antagonize the Betas.” 

That was the rule. That was the rule that Scott came up with and that the rest of the Pack eagerly agreed upon, but the one Stiles couldn’t help but break. He’s an Omega who goes into heat and heats make him feisty. They make him do ridiculous things. Things that could get him in trouble not only with Scott but also with the law. Heats make Stiles run out buck naked through the streets of Beacon Hills near dawn. Heats make him loud and rowdy in public places, punch-drunk and egging random dudes into fights for no good reason. Derek had tried to explain to the Pack that as an Omega Stiles had the unconscious urge to provoke others to either try and claim him or fight someone else for the right to claim him; “Its not completely his fault that he’s a total asshole when he’s in heat. He can’t help it…though the rest of the time yeah he’s a tool.” 

Which leads to Stiles’ current heat-induced, erratic behavior: wiggling his ass, gyrating wildly in Peter’s face repeatedly hollering, “Pop that tuckus! Pop that tuckus! Pop that tuckus!” 

The fact that it took all of five minutes for Peter to react was a testament to his lack of patience and Stiles’ truly delectable scent. Having that fertile Omega smell shoved in your face would be enough to provoke anybody. Since this particular heat had started two days earlier Peter had been subjected to this treatment every other minute. But knowing it was going to happen could never prepare one for the actual happening. 

Peter’s eyes were flashing blue, his claws slowly edging out, a rumbling low and predatory in his chest. He wanted to grab Stiles by the hips and bite that annoying, enticing ass; just once sinking his teeth into that supple flesh before he flipped Stiles around and sniffed the poor Omega’s crotch for an hour, drowning in the scent of pure Heaven. The urge to take and claim was an instinct in every wolf but in Peter it was doubly so. And he had the lack of morals to act on it too. He lunged—

And he was stopped by his nephew in mid-pounce. Derek stood between his uncle and Stiles like the brick wall that Stiles said he often impersonated. He kept his uncle at bay calmly requesting, “Stiles stop. This is the thousandth time you’ve done this. Stop egging him on!”

Derek shoved his uncle back into his seat on the couch as Stiles snickered and stayed put ready to start over as soon as Derek stepped away. But Derek didn’t move. Instead he called on a higher power, “Scott? Are you gonna do something about _your_ Omega?”

“He’s not _my_ Omega, Derek.” Scott argued. “I don’t own him.”

“Yeah, but you’re the Alpha. He’s your responsibility.” Derek countered. Stiles began to jiggle again, humming a hah-hah under his breath at Derek’s futile attempt to get him to stop. Peter’s eyes were still trained on Stiles as he growled and lunged again. Derek stood firm holding him back. “Scott!”

“STILES, STOP!” Scott yelled in his Alpha voice, his eyes flashing an unearthly red. Instantly Stiles stilled blinking in shock at Scott’s command. Scott hardly ever used his Alpha voice and certainly never on his best friend. Stiles let out a whimper as he sank onto the coffee table belly-up. He bared his throat, his pussy clenching at the show of dominance suddenly felt a thousand times more empty. Stiles got wetter and every wolf could smell it. The prostrate Omega whined in embarrassment, blushing, even as his hands went south in some puerile attempt to either hide his wetness or touch himself. With Stiles in the midst of heat it really could’ve been either. 

“Alpha…” Stiles whispered in a mix of desire and helplessness. Scott sighed, rising tensely from his seat and cautiously stepping towards his overheated best friend. He never bedded Stiles, that was the unspoken rule between them. They’re friendship meant too much to them to let biology interfere. As appealing as Stiles’ Omega pheromones are to an Alpha like Scott, who has no mate and no heirs and a still-new-ish Pack that needed some serious bonding, Scott couldn’t get passed their friendship. An Omega like Stiles could find themselves being bred on the regular in Packs like theirs, but Stiles and Scott never went there, even when Stiles’ wolf begged to be mounted by his Alpha. 

Making grabby hands to his Alpha Stiles whined softly until Scott scooped him up into his arms. Stiles hummed contentedly scenting his Alpha. Scott turned towards the stairs, “Alright time to go to your room, Stiles.”

Up the stairs they went. Scott ever so lovingly placed Stiles in bed and helped him change into his heat sweats. This was the third day of Stiles’ heat, which meant it was kicking into high gear, but Scott’s show of dominance would only help in pushing it on harder. Knowing all this Scott soothed Stiles to sleep, a brief nap before the storm, and then he quietly retreated back downstairs.

“Who wants to go see a movie?” Scott cheerfully asked. Everyone grumbled in affirmation except Peter. Movies were the Pack’s standard ‘we need to get away from Stiles while he’s in heat or we’ll all mount him’ strategy.

“Fine.” Jackson groused. “Anything but Maze Runner.”

Peter rose to his feet, bumping chests with his nephew in the process. He announced to no one in particular, “I’m going home.”

Derek stepped to one side as Peter stepped the other way and Derek watched as his uncle went towards the backyard. Apparently he was going to run home instead of drive, no doubt to run through his excess frustrated energy. Derek didn’t join the others leaving by the front door until he heard the back door slam shut, only then did he hurry out the front making sure to lock it behind him. He knew what was up and knew it was time to stay out of the way.  


 *

Peter ran halfway to his apartment before it dawned on him that his apartment wasn’t his home anymore. At some point the Pack’s house had become his home, where he spent the majority of his time. His apartment was the place he went to on weekends when the Pack would have one of their ‘We’re Not Dead’ parties; it was where he went when he needed time alone to plot and scheme; it was where he went when he wanted sex. But otherwise the Pack house was his home. Stopping mid-stride Peter breathed in the chilly autumn air, making the snap decision to run back where he came.

He reached the house quickly. Unsure of what to do he began walking upstairs to his assigned room, which at one point had been the attic space. He was halfway up the stairs when Stiles toddled into view. He was bare-chested and wearing only a thin pair of cotton sweatpants, his eyes glazed over in heat. Peter stopped dead in his tracks as Stiles unsteadily made his way down the stairs. 

“Where is everyone?” Stiles asked in a quiet, childlike voice.

“They went to the movies.”

“Why?” Stiles whined, seemingly confused by their lack of presence.

“Because you’re in heat you little minx.” Peter explained with a certain irritated-slash-husky tone of voice.

“Oh?” Stiles muttered as he reached the landing where Peter stood. “Good.”

“Good?” Peter questioned. 

“I’m glad.” Stiles stated assuredly.

“Why?” Peter was suspicious.

“Means I get you all to myself.” Stiles confessed turning around on his heels to grind his ass against Peter’s crotch. Stunned Peter just let the heated Omega do as he wished, his mind taking a backseat to the physical pleasure. “Mount that tuckus. Mount that tuckus. Mount that tuckus.” 

Free to do as he wished and being so blatantly spurred on Peter roughly grabbed Stiles by the waist and slammed him against the wall. Peter sniffed Stiles’ face trying to decipher any kind of emotion, but all he got was a nose-ful of aroused Stiles.

“No one ever wants me for my ass.” Stiles whined bumping his nose against Peter’s. “And its such a nice, little ass. Everyone just wants my front: my wet, hot pussy.”

Growling as his wolf came out to play Peter snapped, “That’s what you’re meant for you little minx! Meant to be bred!”

“Why?” Stiles innocently inquired, arching has back to rub his front against Peter’s crotch.

“Why?! Why?! Why?! Why what?! Why have you been teasing me?!” Peter yelled as his hand went to Stiles’ chest to push the writhing Omega away. 

“Unnn! Peter!” A new wave of Stiles’ arousal hit Peter like a ton of bricks. 

“You like being a tease. Don’t you?!” Peter rhetorically asked. Dropping to his knees, Peter pinned Stiles unruly hips to the wall as he ducked down and loudly sniffed Stiles’ private place. Stiles bucked against the ironclad grip Peter had on him to no avail. 

“Peter!”

Giving in to his baser instincts Peter ignored Stiles as he rubbed his nose against the thin fabric between him and Paradise. The smell of heat and fertility was so strong Peter would be able to smell nothing else for hours. Eventually though smelling wasn’t enough.

Peter rose to his feet and picked Stiles off of his. Stiles wrapped his arms around Peter’s neck as the older wolf carried him to his room. Stiles nipped at Peter’s neck and jaw the whole way and Peter growled and nipped back in response. Then he threw Stiles onto Stiles’ bed.

The plopping down seemed to jog some rational part of Stiles awake as he warned: “Scott’ll kill you if you knot me.” 

Ripping his sleeves off his wrists, Peter responded, “Then I won’t knot you. I’ll fist you instead.”

Pouncing on his prey Peter attacked Stiles’ nipples with his mouth as he shoved two of his fingers inside Stiles’ dripping pussy. Stiles gripped Peter’s head yelping at the sudden onslaught.

“Why?! Why, Stiles?! Why all the endless teasing?!” Peter demanded to know as he thumbed Stiles’ clit. 

“You need me! You need me!” Stiles yelled in response. He liked it rough, he liked being taken. Unhappy with Stiles’ answer Peter covered his mouth with his, drawing Stiles into a battle of teeth and tongue and lips. Peter held the Omega down by the throat as he bucked through his first orgasm of the day. “PETER!”

Adding another finger Peter began biting his way down Stiles’ body starting with the teen’s long, pale throat. Sucking love bites as he went Peter journeyed lower to Stiles’ chest, then his belly, then his pelvis, then his thighs before darting back up to suck on Stiles’ clit. Stiles keened in an other orgasm. And so it went until Peter had his whole fist inside Stiles and the overstimulated Omega squirted over the knot-facsimile. 

*

As Peter wobbled out of Stiles’ room towards his own he took stock of his clothes. They were all drenched in sweat, slick, and cum; they were all ruined and he didn’t care. He had cum staining the crotch of his pants and underwear together, Stiles’ cum which had spurted down his arm was now dripping to the floor and he didn’t care. Everyone in the Pack would know he had debauched Stiles and then kill him, but he didn’t care. He was dazed. He was confused. And he was exhausted in ways he hadn’t ever been before except that one weekend when he went to a sex party in New Orleans. He collapsed on his own bed and was asleep in seconds. 

*

Stiles’ heat passed and he stopped being such a cruel tease to Peter. 

One day when they were alone again, Stiles sidled next to his Packmate and explained. “You needed me.”

“What?”

“You’ve always been on the periphery of the Pack. Just on the outskirts ready to jump ship if need be or skip out of town if we came after you with torches and pitchforks like the villagers of old did. You needed me to reel you in, reaffirm your place in the Pack. I mean reaffirm your connections _to_ the Pack. I did the same thing for Jackson a couple months ago when he first came back. I tied him down and made him eat me out for hours until he smelt like Pack again. I did it for Derek months before that because his girlfriend again turned out to be a mass-murdering fuckhead and he needed to know that there was pussy out there that wasn’t attached to homicidal maniacs. I tied him down and gagged him and threw a condom on him and rode him so many times he was crying by the end of it. Though he might have been crying because I was also psychoanalyzing him as I rode him. I’m pretty amazing when I’m in heat.”

“Stiles…you’re pretty amazing when you cum, but the rest of the time you’re an asshole.”

“Maybe _that’s_ why no one ever gives it to me up the ass! They think _that’s_ the real me!” Stiles declared. 

Rolling his eyes, Peter sighed, “Oh yes, Stiles _that’s_ the reason.”


End file.
